


so that you can learn to love

by myriadslashes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Fluff for the most part, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), background Edeleth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-27 17:17:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21395812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriadslashes/pseuds/myriadslashes
Summary: Hubert receives a gift (one physical, many intangible) from Ferdinand, and needs help deciding what to give him in return.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley & Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 17
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

Hubert has, since he was a child, since forever, dedicated his life to the emperor.

He's done _everything_ for her sake – he's her shadow, a companion through all her days, a protector who never leaves. He lays down the stones in the path she's chosen to take, and he takes the responsibility of having spilt the blood that flows across the path's surface.

That's not to say she hasn't made sacrifices as well – he can never wash away the deaths at her feet – but he's always been right there with her.

He's kept many secrets from her, of course. There are things that shouldn't mar Edelgard's ears, events that shouldn't stain her memory. Realizations that wouldn't do much for her cause. But she asks of him, one day, to reveal them to her – and reveal he does.

It's not unusual to develop feelings for her, is it? A powerful connection that Hubert feels has only grown deeper. Especially when she's the beautifully strong and ambitious woman that she is, clad in the crimson armor of the empirical lineage, spearheading the Imperial army – never faltering, never straying. Edelgard merely blushes at the revelation, says nothing, then they share a laugh.

Hubert thinks she likes someone else.

It's not romantic attraction that binds them then – it's allegiance, a pledge of his life, and it always was. That much is obvious to him now, as the words he said when he told the Emperor he loved her surely don't carry the weight he thought they would. It's clear that _that _kind of connection – for the Emperor – exists purely between herself and the Professor.

And Hubert's never thought he's needed someone to share his life with before. His life _was _only his, _is _only the Emperor's, ever since they met as children, and even before that. House Vestra serves as House Hresvelg's vassal, and it's always been that way.

It's only when he sees happenings like Byleth confidently breezing into the Advisory Room – _uninvited _– and casually talking to Edelgard about just whatever (Hubert doesn't deem it dangerous to her, but fishing's a topic that he personally isn't too interested in) then leaving with the Emperor attached too-close to her arm ("My apologies, Hubert, I have an appointment. Stay here and wait, will you?") that he finally decides _yes, maybe I do need someone like that. _

But it's a decision that ultimately skirts close to having no meaning. There's a set of mental rules that all his actions are bound by, and all of them are centered around the idea that _this benefits the Empire _and _this benefits Lady Edelgard_. So who is he to want another addition to his life when it's all been revolving around a single thing for so long?

It's difficult to devote a life to two separate causes, let alone to two separate people.

Especially when the person he's thinking of – the person who first came to mind when he made his decision – is… _largely_ combative and quick to respond to Edelgard's choices if they're thought to be mistakes. And he also likes tea, the most generic thing a noble could be interested in, but that's besides the point. Nevertheless, the fact remains that Hubert clearly has feelings for him.

Even so, because of all the reasons he's thought of – and the fact that Hubert feels that if he even so much as _considers_ spending a lifetime with Ferdinand, he inevitably will – Hubert resolves to _make _the decision mean absolutely nothing.

(It's unfortunate that things never really go to plan.)

* * *

"Oh, it is _you_."

The statement carries no hint of annoyance or disgust as it might have five years ago. Hubert nods stiffly in response, forgoing the retort he'd have made in the past as well. It's gratifying to him that their years of working together have served to mellow the differences between them.

"The Professor also called you here, then?"

"She did. It is a surprise to see you."

Hubert doesn't sit, instead contemplating the empty chair of the Professor who'd invited them in the first place. He goes through the reasons why she might be late, then settles on ignoring it and preparing a drink for her in advance.

"Do you surmise the Professor likes coffee, or –"

"Tea, certainly," Ferdinand says with an air of satisfaction, "She _does_ have it regularly with the members of the Strike Force."

"...I had not even revealed the second option."

"It matters not, Hubert."

Hubert says nothing more and moves to prepare the tea leaves stocked in the kitchen – Ferdinand stops him ("Now _you_ just sit here, I'll make the _best_ tea with my efforts") and goes to do it instead. Most likely for the better, as Hubert's sure he's far more experienced with it.

It's not that he _dislikes_ tea; it's just that coffee is better. Just like how Ferdinand constantly flounders at a level below Edelgard's, tea is on a lower tier of existence.

"...Ferdinand," he states, a short while after the advisor's returned to the table.

"Yes?"

"How… is the tea?"

"Ah, the tea," Ferdinand says, "... I have not tried it yet. It is too scalding at the moment."

Hubert fears he's being too quick to want to initiate conversation. "I see."

Ferdinand, on the contrary, speaks up a moment later. "While we wait, Hubert, where do you think the Professor has gone? She called us here, did she not?"

"She did," Hubert says with uncertainty. "Is it probable that it's slipped her mind?"

"Maybe she's just given up on us to go and accompany Edelgard instead," Ferdinand says in dismay. "How unfortunate a thought that would be."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Hubert concurs, "Lady Edelgard surpasses us all. Especially in the eyes of the Professor."

He takes a sip of the tea, slowly, trying to savour it like his dining partner would. After a moment he wonders if tea has ever tasted this much like coffee. Surely it's impossible for water boiled in leaves to achieve this rich taste.

Hubert looks down at the quaint teacup and to his confusion, it really _does_ have the appearance of his favourite drink.

(Okay, maybe he's been too distracted by how the light from the windows shines off Ferdinand's hair to notice the aroma.)

"Ferdinand, is this…"

"Do you not recognize it?" Ferdinand questions, looking absolutely resplendent, "I'd specially imported it on advice from Edelgard."

"...For what reason?" Hubert takes a moment to think about what to say and utterly fails, "Surely this is something you'd do for someone you –"

His brain disappoints him again, and he chokes on his own words before continuing, "Well, in any case, I scarcely expected you to gift anything to me."

"I am _Ferdinand von Aegir,_ master of surprises. Do not expect anything less!" The declaration draws Hubert's attention to him, if it wasn't on him already, and Ferdinand's words are painted with sincerity: "I do hope you like it, Hubert. The remaining beans are at your behest if you so wish."

"I – will take them," Hubert says, tersely, as he fights to not sound as touched as he is, "You have my gratitude."

Ferdinand has the warmest smile on his face in response, and it's a sight to be treasured in such times. "You are most certainly welcome."

They have a quiet and uneventful mealtime together beyond that, talking about nothing of much significance, dancing around things of personal importance and discussing the upcoming battles and advisories. Nothing about each other's own woes or the other members of the Strike Force.

It is sufficiently emotionally detached for Hubert.

* * *

"Before I go, it disturbs me to take something with nothing to give back," he carefully begins as a conclusion to their time together, "Is there… anything I may do or gift you in return for the coffee?"

"That is, admittedly, a difficult question to answer," Ferdinand says slowly, looking to the warlock across him, "I trust that, if you think hard enough, you'll find something suitable. Oh, but I have too many teas to know what to do with, so you do not have to go looking for that."

"Understood." Hubert absolutely does not want to go about thinking about Ferdinand and what he would desire for any extended period of time, especially not any longer than he already is, but he supposes he has brought himself into this mess. "I can only imagine why the Professor never came. Nevertheless, it did still make it possible for us to share a meal together."

"I'd have guessed you would already know why she never arrived!" Ferdinand exclaims, "It was, surely, intentionally as you say – to set us up to enjoy a nice cup of tea together, without disturbances. Her invitation was merely an excuse. It is fortunate that I brought the coffee beans along so I could gift them to you."

Hubert looks at him closely. His eyes (the ones framed perfectly by the luscious locks of his hair) betray nothing, but the irregular tapping of his gloved fingers on the table says otherwise. "Ferdinand, you know something about this."

"I … do not," he huffs, "I am just making an educated guess."

"If I didn't know better I'd guess you set this up _yourself_."

"How – that is, why would you –"

"Why would _you_ not just invite me yourself?"

There's a long pause, and Ferdinand looks so defeated that Hubert feels an intense need to comfort him, tell him everything he's doing is all right. "I was afraid you may have rejected an invitation from me."

"Why would …" Hubert starts to reiterate, then gives up. It is true that they have never personally invited each other for anything alone, even throughout the five years, but Hubert thought it just a product of their work piling up as the war progressed. Oftentimes it really was only the Professor bringing people together in small, more personal groups. "I would not have rejected you. There is no reason for you to go through the Professor."

"Well, it was just an idea I had," Ferdinand says, his tone forlorn, "And she approved so readily, going so far as to say she'd have done it herself in time! I recall she even mentioned something about you and I needing to spend more uninterrupted time together. So no work, or anything of the sort.

"She said Her Majesty had also noticed the same thing. We are supposed to work together, Hubert, but that means constructing a bond with each other as well, away from the others!"

"And have we not done that?"

"Not as much as I would have liked," Ferdinand admits finally. He pushes his hair behind an ear in apparent nervousness. (Is Hubert seeing things or is there a pink tint to it?)

"I see." Hubert wants to say more, but can't think of anything appropriate. Or are his thoughts too preoccupied with words coming from Ferdinand of all people? "In any case, I am… grateful for your time, Ferdinand."

The man in question perks up at his words, mustering a smile that Hubert is tremendously glad for, "As am I. I will see you around, Hubert."

As Ferdinand stands and leaves, Hubert gazes at his retreating figure and wonders if they share anything between them.

No. It's improper, if not infeasible.

(But still.)

* * *

"He gave you your favourite coffee, so you should do something absolutely unexpected and give him your hand in marriage."

Hubert looks at her with a deadpan expression. "... I am asking for your advice in the most serious manner."

"And that _is_ my advice. Trust me, he'll will probably be so happy that he'll faint."

"I am extremely doubtful about that."

"Ferdie's a hopeless romantic. And you…" Dorothea pauses for a bit. "Actually, I'm not really sure why he chose _you_ of all people. Our Ferdie is all sunshine and rainbows, and you, Hubie, are doom and gloom."

"_Chose_?"

"He's never said it, but it's so easy to see through him, you know? Just like a bee drawn to a flower. Except… _you_ aren't really..."

Hubert interrupts her, firmly, "I regard myself as well-practiced in analyzing people with no hindrance by emotions, and I have not seen anything of the sort."

"Well, keep telling yourself that, Hubie." Dorothea gives him a wink. "Good luck with him. The Professor's calling to instruct me now."

She moves past him toward the back of the Cardinals' Room, and Hubert is left behind with only his notes on the table. He consults his remaining options.

Maybe the Professor would be of better help.

Hubert looks across the room and there on the other side of the table sits Ferdinand, poring over lance techniques and who knows what else. He can't relate. But whatever it is, Ferdinand looks extremely focused on it, writing down notes in that endearing script that Hubert reads so often, so he refrains from speaking.

He looks to his right, where Her Majesty is, and she's… of course. The Professor is just a little ways away. Hubert would guess she's only half looking at the papers she's supposed to be absorbing. 

No, wait, _he_ was supposed to be thinking about something actually important. 

When Byleth finally comes around to him, where he'd normally ask for consultation on dark magic usage, or the deployment of gambits, he instead blurts out: "Professor. What do you think would make an appropriate gift in return to someone who's been … _kind_, to you?"

"...That's unexpected, coming from you, Hubert." The Professor has a knowing look in her eyes.

"...You already know what this is about, don't you? Ferdinand made a request of you." Hubert can't recall when the Professor had started judging and formulating opinions on him. "Therefore –"

"_Oh,_ it's Ferdinand. Yes, of course, I should have expected." She looks thoughtful. "I didn't think he'd move that fast. What was it? Your favourite coffee?"

"Yes, and –"

"It was _me _who had to get it specially imported, you know. With the bandits blocking the merchants' way into Garreg Mach."

"Ah," is all Hubert can say, and he doesn't remember when the Professor was ever so conversational. Maybe it's Edelgard's doing. "I see. Do you… have any opinion on what he would prefer to receive?"

Byleth stays silent for a long moment, and finally comes up with "No, not really. If not for tea."

"Well then –"

"_But_ I can ask the rest of the Strike Force to see who can help you out, since you clearly need it."

"_Hardly_, Professor, I don't think that's –"

"You've been doing well practicing dark magic on your own. I'll get back to you next week."

The Professor leaves, and Hubert is conflicted.

It's okay. He still has a lifetime to think of a gift for him, right?

(_If_ Ferdinand doesn't die in battle, which is a terrible thing to think about and makes Hubert feel like the light of his world is quickly slipping away through his fingers, so he stops.)

Oh, no, this isn't the time to get carried away. It's not as if the gift would have to be particularly meaningful or pertinent. A lifetime? What was he considering?

And if the Professor actually…

For now, Hubert trusts that Byleth was only messing with him.

(It's not a very smart thing to do.)

* * *

There's someone following him around, he's sure of it now.

Hubert doesn't look, but he senses them – it's been maybe a full 30 seconds of this. There's not much reason for anyone in Garreg Mach to be tailing him (usually, he's the one shadowing others) so he speculates on who it is.

And he decides to turn on his heel, right as he reaches the fishing dock area: "What are you –"

"_WAAH! _Uh, H-Hubert! It's just me –"

He looks at the Strike Force's most prized, reclusive archer with confusion. "_Bernadetta?_ For what reason would you seek me out like this?"

"I – uh –" She looks like she's seen a ghost, and the ghost has been stalking _her_, not the other way around. "Havesomethingtosuggest."

"Suggest?" Hubert has a sense of immense dread. "And what would that be?"

"Do you ...remember when I gave you that embroidered flower the other day?"

Hubert instinctively reaches to touch where the gift would normally be when he'd meet Bernadetta – a spot secure on his usually colour-devoid outfit.

"Well. I wasn't informed that I would be in your presence," he says, pointedly, "so I did not think to wear it. It personally does not suit me, after all."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry…"

"Do I look as _terrifying_ as expected without it?"

"_Y-Yes_," Bernadetta says, and if anything her apparent state of petrification proves it. "But, um, I actually wanted to tell you something sort of related –"

"Out with it, then," Hubert drawls, satisfied.

"I… have an object you could gift Ferdinand," she rushes through the words, "And I think it would be really, really nice if you would accept it! It could be like the flower…"

"Oh?" His interest is piqued, and then he realizes. "...A moment, Bernadetta."

"W-What is it? Were you offended? I'm –"

"There is no need to apologize. I'm curious, however, as to how you knew of my plight."

"Erm… it was… the Professor?," she replies, cautiously, "She told us about it."

"_Us_ meaning –"

"Everyone in the Black Eagle Strike Force… excluding Ferdinand, of course."

"... _Interesting_."

(Though he has long since dashed all thoughts of murdering Byleth after Edelgard proved particularly fond of her, Hubert thinks about what it would be like to send the Ashen Demon to hell.)

"I-Is there something wrong, Hubert?"

"No, it is nothing. Carry on."

"The gift is in my room…! If you would follow me –"

"_Bernadetta,_ inviting someone into her room? And a person such as I! How _historic_."

"Isn't that the sort of thing friends would be okay with?" She retorts, almost automatically, before rapidly backpedaling, "No, no wait, I shouldn't be assuming –"

"That is correct," Hubert states. "And we are good friends, are we not?"

"O-Oh!" There's a note of surprise and happiness in the exclamation, and Hubert nearly feels like letting a smile slip. "Yes, of… of course!"

They walk to Bernadetta's quarters. It's not an area Hubert's particularly familiar with, having stayed on the second floor during his time at the monastery.

There were times where he'd see the Professor having a conversation with her through the door – maybe this was the way Bernadetta was informed of the situation without his knowledge.

In any case, with all her talents, he's sure whatever she has made will not disappoint.

"Well… this is my room. It's on the windowsill…"

Hubert peers into the space where Bernadetta spends most of her time. The armored bear stuffy on her chair catches his eye, but the light from the windows soon draws his attention to … two plants?

No, they're stuffed. Soft toys. He walks over and picks one up. "A venus flytrap, correct?"

"Yes!" Bernadetta confirms with enthusiasm, "I found one in the corner of the greenhouse the other day and used it as a reference. It was difficult but I hope I managed, heh-heh."

Hubert turns it over in his hands, bringing a gloved finger to poke at the toy's 'head'. "I do not remember a plant with such vibrant orange appendages."

"It's, ah, an aesthetic choice!" She explains, anxiously, "If you look at the other one…"

"_This_ I have not seen before." He sets the venus flytrap down and picks up the other mysterious plant plushy. It has, in comparison to the flytrap, dark coloured appendages. "Most curious…"

"It's a pitcher plant," Bernadetta informs him, "Another carnivorous plant. It lures insects in with nectar, then traps them inside its pitcher and consumes them! And because it's pretty befitting of y – I mean –"

"Befitting of?"

"No, no no, I-I said nothing."

He regards the plants. They are _exceptionally_ well made, forged with care from needle and thread – Hubert guesses she would have had to purchase additional materials from outside the monastery's merchants. He would definitely have to pay her back immensely.

"And these plush flowers..." He turns his doubts over and over in his head, "you think they would make a good gift for Ferdinand? Would one not suffice?"

"They – um… _the plants_, they're married! They come in a set. I was going to keep the both of them, but then the Professor came around, and I thought… _you_ could have one, and give the other to him."

"_Married…_" It's such a strange word on his tongue. And it's referring to stuffed plants, no less.

"The flytrap is named Nosferatu, and he is happily wedded to the pitcher plant, Miasma."

"You… saw fit to give them names?"

"I _made_ them with the love and care they _deserve_."

"...This is certainly excellent craftsmanship, Bernadetta, and I am deeply grateful." Hubert nods appreciatively, then looks to her with an apprehensive expression.

"However, is it not important that _I_ have a personal contribution in this gift as well?"

"Well…" Bernadetta considers the options for Hubert, looking thoughtful. "You could always write a heartfelt letter, to go with the plants. You seem to be searching for something physical to give, but there's nothing wrong with some words!"

"Penning letters that aren't paperwork or niceties bound toward those stifling Noble lords isn't something I usually do..."

"I-I can help! I think… I _have_ written letters in my fictional stories before."

"...No, I think it is crucial that I write it alone." Hubert gathers up the two plushies – they're so soft – and turns back at the doorway. "Thank you for the idea, Bernadetta. And thank you for the gift as well. Truly."

"I'm really glad that I could assist!" Bernadetta breaks into a smile, "I hope it goes well with Ferdinand…"

Hubert allows a contained grin to spread across his features and hopes that it doesn't come off as terrifying without the embroidered flower. "That reminds me… Perhaps wearing your flower may give me an advantage in the meeting."

"Really? But why? Ferdinand isn't afraid of you."

"...It's for me."

"For you…"

"_For luck_."

"_Ohhh, _I see!" The exclamation is said with satisfaction, like she knew all along. "I'm sure he will accept your feelings."

_You are sorely mistaken,_ Hubert wants to say, but it isn't as easy to lie to his friends as before.

…It certainly won’t be easy to confront Ferdinand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love the two jewels of adrestia with all my heart
> 
> forecast for part 2: ferdibert being a mess


	2. Chapter 2

"Who is it?" A voice calls, eager and bright even through the wall.

(For some reason, his hands tremble just slightly even after he's firmly rapped on the door.)

"... It is me. Hubert."

"Oh." There's a pause. "I thought we had finished everything we had to do for today!"

It stabs at him that their interactions are only justified by _work_. "Your thoughts are true. I did not come here to discuss anything related to that."

"Then…"

"I have something for you." Hubert inhales, then exhales. "Will you not invite me in?"

"My apologies. Of course."

Ferdinand opens the door and allows him in, giving Hubert a curious glance. He looks a little more frayed than usual, looking at him with a slightly dulled gaze and several strands of hair that – while still luscious – are out of place. Hubert resists the urge to fix them for him.

They sit at the side of the room, and the window is just behind Hubert – a pity, he thinks, because he blocks the light from Ferdinand.

Before he can say anything Ferdinand opens his mouth: "Hubert – is that an embroidered _flower_?"

"..._Yes_." He can't think of much else to say.

"How pleasant." Ferdinand says, eyes crinkling as he beams at him. "I cannot say it was expected, but it looks great on you!"

(Five seconds in and the wind is already knocked out of Hubert.)

"... … _Thank you_, Ferdinand." he manages.

"So," Ferdinand inquires, after a beat, "what do you have for me?"

"I have it here." Hubert says as quickly and as curtly as he can. "This is for the coffee. It was truly delectable. You have my thanks."

He retrieves the gift from his bag and pushes it toward Ferdinand at an arm's length, mildly grimacing. Its recipient stares at it, vaguely bewildered.

"Hubert, what _is_ this?"

"His name is _Nosferatu_," he says flatly. "He's a carnivorous plant plushy that Bernadetta made."

"I see." Ferdinand takes it gently, inspects it, before declaring in delight: "Nosferatu's hair is just as amazing as mine! Bernadetta did a wonderful job. I am sure that if he could sing he'd capture the attention of even the pegasi."

Hubert blinks confusedly at him. Just what sort of person had he made the mistake of taking an interest in? "If you like it, I am pleased."

"Like it? I would even go so far as to say that I love it. He shall be treated like a precious pet." Ferdinand sets Nosferatu the Venus Flytrap on his table, seemingly admiring it. "He shall sit here for the days to come, so that anyone coming in can regale him in his full glory."

"That is… _fantastic_, Ferdinand."

"I am extremely appreciative of the gift! It is fortunate – just a few days ago I was thinking that my desk was rather bare."

If Hubert didn't know better he'd think there were sparkles floating about Ferdinand's face and dancing in his eyes. It _would_ complement him well. "...It is, maybe, just about the kindest you have been to me, Hubert!"

"It is just a gift," Hubert says, and the words sting as he says them. "In return for your coffee beans. Do not thank me – I was not even the one who made them."

"That may be so, but the _sentiment_ counts!" Ferdinand pauses, then looks hopeful, "...Wait, did you say _them_? Is there another plant?"

"...Er." Hubert hesitates. He didn't think he'd have to introduce more than one carnivorous plant plushy today. "Bernadetta _did_ make another one. His name is Miasma, but she wanted _me _to have him. Although, if you wanted it…"

He holds up the pitcher plant for him to see. Ferdinand looks back and forth between Hubert and the plant, peering meticulously.

"He looks just like you," Ferdinand says appreciatively. "Even down to the dark, brooding look, and the hair that falls handsomely down its head. Is Miasma not based upon you?"

"He's married –"

"_Devoted_, and you are likewise."

"– to _Nosferatu_. There are no emperors in this narrative."

Ferdinand pulls the flytrap plushy closer to him from where he's sitting. "Nosferatu is _mine_. We act as one!"

"Nosferatu is Miasma's. They are bound to each other."

"Is that so! You do not seem the type to want to keep such … soft trinkets in any case, Hubert. Shall I house both of them in my room together?"

"Whatever the case, they are still bound through means not physical. If I keep Miasma, he will still be bound to Nosferatu whether he wants to or not. No matter what."

The more Hubert talks about it the more he thinks this is some elaborate metaphor constructed by his friends. It seems likely that Bernadetta made the plants on her own, first, and the rest of them added the … _other_ aspects.

"So… maybe you should have him. They'll be happier that way."

"Splendid." Ferdinand acquires Miasma and sets him down next to Nosferatu, then looks up so their gazes meet. "You _will_ come visit?"

This isn't about the plants anymore, is it? "...I will. You have my word."

A pause. "...Is this it for now, then? Are you leaving?" Hubert can't tell if the voice is disappointed.

"There is… something else before I go. Something part of the gift, you could say, which is more… _expressive _of sentiment."

"Oh? Another surprise?" Ferdinand looks up at him, intrigued. "You may beat me at my game yet."

Hubert thinks back to the ink he'd meticulously written onto paper, the words he'd chosen. He didn't pride himself on his writing, but he'd done his best. Nevertheless, it wasn't his intention to have written out a multi-paged missive – he got carried away.

"It is… a letter. For you." Hubert takes the letter and gives it to him like it's an explosive rigged to go off.

"...Well!" Ferdinand holds the folded parchment in his hands, plausibly attempting to guess what it contains. "Colour me shocked. A long message from _you_ to me."

"You _did _say to give you any further comments in writing."

"I said _compliments_."

"...So you remember that interaction as well as I."

"Well, I have a perfect memory!"

Hubert sighs, a rattled exhale that only slightly betrays the nerves he's feeling. "I should be going."

"Wait –"

"It's all in the letter."

"I –" Ferdinand searches furtively for an excuse. "I cannot stand to read such a long letter, so you _must_ stay and explain its contents to me."

"...Is that it? But you are happy to pore over the things you're interested in, no matter the duration, caught in intense concentration for long periods of time." Hubert glances warily at him. "Or will you not dignify my letter with your time?"

"I will!" Ferdinand insists. "Alright, well, then I shall read it here and now. I have a most charming voice, you know."

Hubert knows very well. "... Are you –"

"_Dearest Ferdinand,_" the man in question reads, "I am writing this letter to –"

_"No_," Hubert hisses and moves forward to take it out of his hands, "_Do not –"_

" – properly inform you of the results of my elaborate analysis of your person– "

He fears tearing the paper, so he can only stare at Ferdinand in frustration. The noble wears an almost smug look on his face as he continues.

" – after your most appreciated gift of coffee and some time taken to think about – "

"I _implore _you to cease." Hubert musters the most murderous look he can toward Ferdinand.

  
"I am surprised you have not thrown a Miasma at me yet." His eyes still scan the paper, preparing to speak again. Hubert hopes he hasn't made it to the end yet.

"...The plant?"

"The _spell!_" Ferdinand stops reading the letter for a moment to retort, "If you did not want me to read it, then why did you give it to me?"

"I did not expect that you would read it aloud."

"I was simply making a show of it." He waves it off. "It is so long that I may as well make some entertainment."

"Then it is entertainment that I do not want to be present for."

"Suit yourself!" Ferdinand says in mock annoyance. "I shall read it when you leave. Good-bye, Hubert, and thank you for the gifts."

"But I…" Hubert's words are forced out. "_...require _an answer, immediately."

"An answer? There is not even a question…"

"Just _read it_. In silence."

"No. You can tell me, concisely, what the contents are. In spoken word!"

"This is such a trivial thing to squabble over…"

"Precisely! So, out with it."

Ferdinand's tone are challenging. Hubert struggles to form words that he has never had to say before.

"It… appears I have developed a regrettable liking toward you."

"I would _expect _so, having been in my companionship for so long!"

"_That_ is not what I meant," Hubert grits his teeth. "It is not what you think. That much is obvious."

"How can a skilled orator like you have such ambiguous meaning in his speech?" Ferdinand shakes his head, "Come now, you should spell it out in exact words!"

"I…" Hubert feels a battlefield around him, pressing him to speak. "_Have feelings for you_."

Before the other can cut in Hubert continues, painfully: "They are not ordinary feelings. Let's say they are feelings that would be very detrimental to me should you come to harm or be stranded away."

"...Oh," Ferdinand says, and says nothing more. Is he thinking about something? Or is he confused? Hubert thinks his bewilderment is rather endearing either way.

"Is there a problem with that?" Hubert asks, experiencing the rare sensation likened to his heart in his throat.

"To be clear," Ferdinand replies with another query, looking like he's about to collapse, "you mean you're in love with me?"

Hubert feels the ridiculousness of the situation crashing down on him, and restrains himself from fleeing the room there and then: "_That is what I meant_."

"...Huh." Ferdinand leans back in his chair, with an inscrutable expression on his face. "To think _you_ would be here saying _this_ to me."

"...So?"

"This is… not a trick?"

"_No_."

"You speak the truth."

"I swear on my life."

Ferdinand laughs, softly, to himself, "If this is something actually happening…"

"It is."

"I would get up off this chair, to embrace you," he says most seriously, "but I'm afraid I shall fall along the way. I've _dreamed_ of this."

"Then, that is to say…_you..._"

"For years_._"

Hubert ponders how he has not seen _this_ for so long. Or did he just blind himself to it, like he did so many other things?

"I… I apologize."

"_What_? Why?" Ferdinand leans forward towards him, examining Hubert's expression, "You have made me the happiest man in Fódlan just from…"

"For not realizing, of course." Hubert looks away. "It is only recently I decided to let myself consider such things."

"The past does not matter."

"_Mine_ matters." He sees Miasma the Pitcher Plant sitting placidly on the table nearby. "I never thought that I would see this day, that you would _ever _reciprocate, but now that it's happened… it feels like I do not deserve –"

"You stop right there, Hubert von Vestra."

Their gazes lock, Hubert's surprised.

"..._I_ think you deserve the world."

"...What?"

"It seems to me that whatever your purpose in the world is, you have done it to the best of your abilities. Sacrificing several things that may have been dear to you." Ferdinand's tone changes again, shifting from serious to light, "And to that end, you deserve even me! I would like to think I am a valuable asset."

"You are," Hubert says unbidden.

"And so are you."

The warlock laughs, relieved, and plausibly exasperated: "Your positivity shall be the end of me."

"Precisely because it is my 'best quality', I am keen to provide it."

Hubert finally smiles, genuinely, back at Ferdinand. "I gladly accept it all. At least from you."

Ferdinand returns it. "Is that the last of everything on your agenda then?" He settles on pulling his seat closer to Hubert's, then placing a hand on top of his where it rests on the chair's arm. It seems to have loosened from its previously near-vice grip – Hubert does not pull away. "Or are there more surprises?"

"...Stand," Hubert orders cryptically, after a period of what seems to have been just him staring into Ferdinand's eyes. They are just like what he has dreamed of.

"What? I-I will try to…" Ferdinand steadies himself on his own chair's arms, and stands, slightly shaking. "Are we leaving? You must forgive me… it is hard to keep on my feet. I feel as if I may –"

Hubert grabs Ferdinand by the shoulders and moves to kiss him.

Ferdinand regains his senses quickly enough to lightly place a hand on Hubert's chest and stop him.

"What?" Hubert looks intensely like a lost puppy. "Did I do something…"

Ferdinand assumes a stern expression, although a sly smile flickers at its edges. "Not in front of the plants."

Hubert nods. "Then we shall move outside, and away."

"For the world to see?"

"Do you care?"

There's a twinkle in Ferdinand's eye when he says: "Do I _look_ like I do?"

"_Understood_," Hubert allows himself, and the day is so much brighter for it.

(The feeling of Ferdinand's nose nuzzling into his cheek and his fingers stroking at his hair is compartmentalized into Hubert's brain for posterity.)

* * *

"_Edie!_" Dorothea bursts into the Advisory Room, looking around for any trace of the Emperor. "I believe you have something to –"

"Hubert? I thought you weren't coming for another –" A voice trails from further inside.

Dorothea advances, then stops in her tracks, eyeing a flustered Professor and a possibly wrathful Edelgard next to her in the back of the room. "Oh, sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"You –" Edelgard turns away, lightly pinching the bridge of her nose, "No, nothing. What is it, Dorothea?"

The songstress grins. "We made a bet the other day, if you remember."

"Oh?"

The Professor looks up as well, inquisitive. "A bet?"

"About two of our most prized advisors, Professor." Dorothea focuses her attention back to Edelgard. "Anyways, a little bee told me Hubie went in for it first. So I win."

"That –" Edelgard nearly splutters, but manages to keep her voice level, "_Really? _Hubert…"

"They were _outside_ Ferdie's room, for some reason. Lin was passing by and he informed me it was rather distracting to his thoughts."

"Maybe it'll inspire him to finally make a move on Caspar," Byleth cuts in. It's so matter-of-fact that it's disorienting.

Dorothea turns to look at her, amused and questioning. "Professor, are you asking for a bet too?"

"No," Edelgard replies.

"But _El_ –"

The Emperor stumbles only marginally for the plea. "I believe they may tear us to pieces if they find out. Caspar's formidable with a healer like Linhardt."

"I think he would be proud of it, actually."

Edelgard gives Byleth a look. "We shall not meddle in others' affairs any longer."  
  


"_Fine_," Dorothea says, pouting. "Professor, you should teach her how to have fun."

"I will try," Byleth promises.

Edelgard hands Dorothea her gold, and waves her away.

"You are dismissed." She pauses. "And do remember to knock next time."

Dorothea smirks. "Thanks, I will, _Your Majesty._"

"I have to admit, though," Edelgard says, finally, "I _am _glad to see them together after so long."

"So am I, Edie. See you around."

(Dorothea bumps into Hubert on the way out, and restrains herself from commenting on the vague scent of tea about him.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [nosferatu/miasma art by a talented friend of mine -- halcyonbluedays on tumblr and twitter :-)](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/377005955054960640/640886093079642122/1572869583192.png)
> 
> thanks for reading!!


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